


adventures in babysitting

by poetictragedy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Biting, Breathplay, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingerfucking, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Marking, Mild Fluff, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetictragedy/pseuds/poetictragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alpha pack is in town and Derek is going to take care of them -- along with his betas, of course. The only two that won't be joining the party are Stiles and Peter. Derek thinks it wise for Stiles to sit this fight out and enlists Peter to watch him (or, as Stiles sees it, <em>babysit</em> him).</p><p>When Stiles tries to leave, Peter gets creative and finds a way to ensure that the teen won't escape.</p><p>Except, the plan takes a different turn and the two end up having their own fun while the pack is off, defending Beacon Hills and putting their lives on the line for the greater good.</p><p>(And Stiles is sixteen; there's nothing super underage going on here.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written because an anon gave me this prompt (exactly): _You should write a PeterStiles fic where Peter has to like stay and watch over stiles because of some threat but stiles wants to go out and help or something and so Peter like handcuffs him and then kinky sex. Yes?_
> 
> And me, being the Peter/Stiles lover I am, couldn't turn it down. ;)
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes you find!

“Why do I have to stay here?” Stiles asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he flicks his gaze between Derek and Scott. He turns his attention to Peter, who’s standing in the corner picking at his cuticles, and groans. “And why is Peter babysitting me? I’m sixteen, Derek — not _five_!”

Derek snorts and raises a brow. “You’re not a child?”

“ _No_ ,” the pouting teenager replies petulantly.

“Right.” Derek laughs and then adds, “So why are you acting like a toddler that just got told they can’t have a cookie?”

Huffing, Stiles narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw. “Because I am a valid member of this pack and I want to help with the Alpha pack,” he answers.

“You’ll get yourself killed,” Derek argues and when Stiles sputters, looking for something to say in reply, the Alpha just smirks. “Stay here with Peter and we’ll update you both on what’s going on.”

With that, Derek and Scott climb through the window. The beta looks back at his best friend with a soft smile and shrugs his shoulders. He splays his hands in a  _‘what are you gonna do?’_  gesture before disappearing into the night.

Stiles groans and flops back on the mattress, throwing an arm over his face. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and tries to come up with a plan on how he’s going to get by Peter freaking Hale.

“Do you really want to sacrifice yourself for the pack?” Peter asks, humming quietly as he comes forward, sitting down on the bed next to Stiles. The teenager doesn’t move and he doesn’t answer. “You’re better off here, where you’ll be safe and  _alive_.”

Another groan escapes Stiles’ throat and he moves his arm away from his face, turning his head to glare at Peter. “You’re  _so_  comforting,” he snarks and sighs. “My friends are out there, right now, putting their lives on the line and I have to sit here — with  _you_  — while they fight.”

The werewolf goes silent and Stiles blinks at him before getting off the bed. He stands and rocks on the balls of his feet for a moment, anxiously tugging at the end of his sleeve. Stiles thinks about making a break for the window but thinks that Peter might snap his neck before he even makes it to the sill.

He can’t just sit around, though, so Stiles looks over his shoulder at the man sitting on his bed and runs toward the window.

Before he can even make it a foot away, Stiles feels a hand wrap around his bicep and he’s pulled back. A second later, he’s thrown onto the bed and Peter is growling as he stalks toward the window, shutting the pane harder than necessary.

“Whoa,” Stiles murmurs as he sits up, tugging his hoodie down, straightening it out. “You don’t have to be  _so violent_ , dude.”

“Would you prefer I let you go and fight with the others?” Peter’s voice is harsh and Stiles winces at his words, shrugging slowly. The wolf shakes his head and locks the window before sitting on the sill, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression challenging.

Stiles, realizing that he’s been defeated, flops back on the bed again with a loud, dramatic groan. He hates werewolves but he hates being treated like he’s a fragile flower even more. Just because he can’t heal like the others doesn’t mean he’s not an important part of the pack and he  _should_  be out there with them, fighting with his friends.

Time ticks on and neither of them move from their spots. Stiles dozes off a little and eventually lets sleep pull him under. There’s nothing else to do, he figures, so maybe taking a nap will be a good distraction from the thoughts in his mind.

An hour passes and Stiles awakes with a start. He blinks his eyes open, looking around the room for a moment before he remembers what’s happening. Peter is babysitting him while the rest of the pack is off, having fun. Awesome.

“You drool in your sleep,” Peter murmurs, smirking. “Did you know that?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“Derek sent me a message, saying they’ve taken the twins out. Scott got scratched by one of the others, but it isn’t too bad.”

Stiles swallows at the lump in his throat and tries to sit up. It’s only then that he realizes his hand is held in place and he turns to look, his eyes widening when he sees the handcuffs. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles turns to glare at Peter and shakes his arm a little as he says, “Dude! What the fuck did you  _do_?”

“I did that,” Peter nods to the handcuffs, which have Stiles’ wrist held to the bedpost, “because I don’t want you making a run for it.”

“Do you  _really think_  I’m going to run with a fucking werewolf in the house? You could tear me apart if I tried to leave!” 

“This keeps  _that_  from happening.” 

Stiles slumps back against the headboard and closes his eyes, moving his wrist a little, already forgetting about the damn handcuffs. He lets his arm hang limp, the other one thrown across his torso, fingers curled around the side of his hoodie.

Then he remembers what Peter said and Stiles blinks his eyes open, looking over to where the werewolf is sitting at his desk, going through one of his books. “Did you say Scott was hurt?” 

“Hmm?”

“Scott,” Stiles repeats. “Did you say he was hurt?”

Pursing his lips together, Peter nods and sets the book down. “It’s just a scratch. It will heal, fortunately, but there will be a nasty scar,” he answers, his voice surprisingly soft.

“ _Shit_.” The thought of Scott out there, bleeding among the pack, makes Stiles’ stomach twist and he swallows. “What about everyone else?”

“Derek didn’t give me an update on them.” Peter scratches his jaw and drops his hand down to his chest, shoving it underneath his arm. “But I’m sure they’re fine,” he says, sensing Stiles’ panic.

The teenager goes silent and stares at the door, his teeth worrying along his lower lip. It’s a constant bite, drag, release, lick and Stiles repeats it until the skin is swollen and red. Peter watches him, thoroughly distracted by the boy’s mouth.

Peter sighs and runs a hand through his hair before standing. He had made himself more comfortable in the room, having gotten rid of his boots and his jacket long ago, when Stiles was sleeping. Now he’s in his nephew’s clothing, the shirt a dark gray v-neck and the pants being tight, black denim. They’re not the most comfortable thing in the world but Peter isn’t about to be picky.

“Everything will be fine,” he says as he comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, patting Stiles’ thigh. Peter notices the way the boy moves away from him and rolls his eyes. “Your friends are strong and Derek is… a good Alpha.”

Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes. “Do you really believe that? About Derek, I mean,” he says and turns, looking at Peter intently.

“I have to believe it.”

“Why?” Stiles lifts a brow and licks his lips. “I mean, you don’t  _have_  to believe anything about him, you know.”

Sighing, Peter looks down at the sheet and shakes his head. “I have to believe it because he’s my family. I know I’ve done unspeakable things to him and the people around him, but he is all I have now,” he answers and looks up at Stiles with a soft smile. “He hasn’t gotten any of you killed yet, so he’s doing a good job so far.”

“ _We’ve_  done a great job of not getting ourselves killed, thanks.”

“I know.” Peter laughs and then sighs again. “He’s a better Alpha than I was,” he murmurs and when he hears Stiles laugh, he looks up, his face twisted with confusion. “What was that for?”

“Dude,  _everyone_  knows that you were kind of a shitty Alpha. I mean, you tried to kill everyone and who even does that? Sure, Derek is an asshole but that’s just because he’s been through a  _lot_.” Stiles bites his lower lip again and Peter’s eyes follow the movement of his teeth, watching his mouth as he speaks. “I mean, Derek wouldn’t kill anyone unless they deserved it. Like you…”

Peter scoffs and flicks his gaze to Stiles’. “Thanks,” he says, pretending to be offended but, really, he gets it. Derek did what he had to do and Peter would have done the same thing in his situation.

The two of them grow silent again and Stiles shifts on the bed, trying to get more comfortable. He sighs heavily and lets his head fall back against the headboard, his eyes sliding shut.

Stiles thinks about how kinky the handcuffs are and he snorts. It figures that the first time he’s handcuffed to his bed his because he’s being held in his room and  _Peter Hale_  was the one to cuff him.

And, okay, the thought of Peter handcuffing him and doing dirty, unspeakable things to him  _should not_ turn Stiles on — but it does. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about the werewolf since he came back from the dead because he had. A lot, actually. 

“What are you thinking about?” Peter asks, pulling Stiles from his reverie.

“Nothing,” he lies and opens his eyes, turning to look at the werewolf, biting down on his lower lip again. Then he notices how Peter is staring at his mouth like he wants to devour it and Stiles shudders. “I was, ah, thinking about how this,” Stiles shakes his wrist, “is kind of kinky, you know.”

Peter lifts a brow and then smirks. “Kinky?  _Really_?”

“Dude, yeah. It’s totally bondage-y and reminiscent of  _Fifty Shades of Grey_.” Stiles’ eyes widen when he says that and he blushes, sputtering, “I mean — not that I read that book or whatever. Erica might have been reading it a few weeks ago and I — you know, I may have  _peeked_  at it.”

“Fifty Shades of Grey…” Peter repeats, grinning.

A deeper blush spreads across Stiles’ face and he groans. “You know, the book about the woman who, like, is in a BDSM relationship with this weird dude? It’s not that good — don’t read it,” he says and bites his lip.

“I’ve heard of it,” the werewolf murmurs and laughs, “but I didn’t know you read those kind of things.”

“But I  _didn’t_!” Stiles protests, his entire face and neck heating up.

Peter hums and nods his head, moving a hand to touch Stiles’ wrist, just underneath the metal cuff. “You’re enjoying this now, aren’t you?”

Stiles doesn’t answer for a moment, just looks up at the ceiling, willing the werewolf to go away and for it all to be a dream. He looks at Peter again and scowls, realizing that it’s not a dream and that the hand moving along his wrist is real — very,  _very_  real.

“Maybe,” he says, eventually, and blushes harder at the smirk that spreads across Peter’s face. Stiles chews on his lower lip and sucks the skin between his teeth before releasing it. 

“I didn’t think you’d react this way to the handcuffs.” As he speaks, Peter moves his fingertip along the middle of Stiles’ wrist, pushing his sleeve up slowly.

Shivering, Stiles closes his eyes and whimpers quietly. “I’m a sixteen year old boy who’s locked in a room with a very attractive werewolf — who just so happens to have me  _handcuffed_  to the fucking  _bed_. Of course I’m going to react this way.”

“You think I’m attractive?” Peter quirks a brow and moves his free hand to the mattress on the other side of Stiles’ body.

“Ugh. I can _not_  believe this is happening.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” the werewolf murmurs, “you didn’t answer my question.”

The teenager opens his eyes and snorts. “What are you gonna do about it, Peter? You gonna spank me for not answering you?”

Stiles knows that he shouldn’t have suggested that. The look on Peter’s face when he brings up spanking only makes the teen shiver more and he sucks on his lower lip, biting down on it harder than before. He suddenly wants to move over, wants to climb onto Peter’s lap, and growls at the man for handcuffing him to the stupid bedpost.

“Do you _want_  me to spank you?”

“Huh?” Stiles asks, blinking. “Fuck, yes. I mean — god, no, this is so fucking sick. You’re, like, my dad’s age..”

“I’m younger than your father,” Peter corrects with a smirk.

A laugh bubbles up from Stiles’ throat and he shakes his head. “Like  _that_  makes it any better! You’re still older than me and you’re, like, creepy as fuck. You seducing a teenage boy just makes your creep-o-meter go up a few notches.”

“You’re the one who started everything.”

“And who are the cops going to believe — some creepy, middle aged man  _or_  a sweet, baby-faced sixteen year old?” 

Peter considers this and shrugs his shoulders. “I guess you’re right,” he sighs and moves away from Stiles before moving back to the desk chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll just sit here for the rest of the night and let you suffer alone.”

When the werewolf moves away, Stiles stares at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He snaps his lips together and scowls, moving a hand to the front of his jeans, rubbing himself through them. ‘Stupid werewolves,’ he thinks and sighs, keeping his hand on his lap.

Silence falls over them and Stiles can feel Peter’s eyes on him. His body warms underneath the older man’s gaze and he knows that it’s wrong to want Peter but Stiles honestly can’t help it. Out of everyone in the pack, he’d bang Peter first because… well, because he’s older and definitely a lot more experienced.

And thinking about the things Peter has done before has Stiles’ cock hardening in his jeans.

“ _Peter_ ,” he sighs and turns to look at the wolf, blushing. “Come here?”

“Are you sure?” Even before he gets an answer, Peter is moving over to the bed and climbing onto it. He watches hesitation flash across the teen’s face before he’s nodding, moving his free hand to touch the side of Peter’s face, fingers stroking down his cheek. 

Before Stiles can say anything, Peter leans in to kiss him gently and moves a hand to the front of the teen’s pants. He cups him through the denim and rubs slowly, breathing against his mouth, swallowing the gasp that escapes Stiles’ lips.

Peter pulls back after a moment and nuzzles his face against the side of the teenager’s, breathing in his scent. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Uh…” Stiles laughs nervously and places his hand on the back of the werewolf’s head, fingers moving through his hair. “I’d really like to not be a virgin in the morning,” he says and shrugs.

“You want me to fuck you?” Peter breathes, right next to Stiles’ ear, and he grins when the teenager shudders, letting out a breathy ‘yes’ in response. “I don’t think I can fuck you like this…”

Stiles sucks in a breath and lifts his hips, grinding himself against Peter’s hand, his fingers tangling in the older man’s hair. “Then unlock the handcuffs and move me around,” he suggests.

Without replying, Peter takes a pair of keys from his pocket and unlocks the cuff around Stiles’ wrist. He sets the key ring on the nightstand before pulling the teenager up and into a sitting position, immediately unzipping his jacket.

Peter takes the hoodie off and throws it onto the floor, moving his hands along Stiles’ sides before grabbing the hem of his shirt. He lifts it, tugging the fabric over the boy’s head, and balls it up, tossing it into the corner.

“You know,” Stiles says, running a finger underneath the bottom of Peter’s shirt, “I could run right now.”

“But you wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, but what if I did?”

Grinning, Peter leans down and pushes Stiles’ body onto the bed with his own, pinning him down as he whispers, “Then I’d drag your ass back to the his bed and smack your ass so hard that it’ll be sore for  _days_.”

“Christ,” Stiles moans, his back arching. “Is that all?”

“No.” The word comes out as a growl and Peter moves his hands down, undoing Stiles’ jeans quickly. “Then I’d cuff you to the bed again and fuck you  _so hard_ ,” Peter whispers, grinning as he pulls back. He shows his fangs to the teenager and his wolf purrs when he sees Stiles shudder.

Stiles gulps and moves his hands underneath the back of Peter’s shirt, splaying his fingers against the small of his back. He tilts his head in a sign of submission and gasps when he feels sharp teeth run along his pulse, causing his heart to jump a bit.

While he moves his mouth along the teen’s skin, Peter pushes his jeans down and bites just above his pulse. He can feel the blood moving through him, can hear it coursing through his veins, and he bites down a little harder. Blood comes to the surface and Peter laps at it, sealing his lips around the mark, sucking hard.

“Fuck!” Stiles hisses, one of his hands going up between the werewolf’s shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. “Fuck, Peter,” he gasps.

Peter smirks and pulls back, looking down at the reddened skin. He licks his lips slowly and moves away, tugging Stiles’ jeans down quickly. The denim gets thrown somewhere behind them and Peter takes his own clothes off, watching as Stiles spreads his legs slowly.

The v-neck lands on Stiles’ desk chair and Peter undoes his jeans quickly, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. He tugs them down, stepping out of the denim and tossing it away, growling as he comes back onto the bed.

“Get on your knees,” Peter whispers, his back arched as he leans down, his chest touching Stiles’. “And stick your ass out for me.”

A shiver shoots down Stiles’ spine and he nods, moving once Peter has eased away. He scrambles onto his knees and holds onto the headboard, sticking his ass just like Peter instructed him. When he feels a hand move along his still-clothed ass, Stiles whimpers and gasps loudly at the smack Peter gives him.

“For running earlier,” is the reason the werewolf gives him and Stiles chews on his lower lip so hard, he’s honestly afraid he’s going to bite a hole through his skin.

The cotton moves down his ass and Stiles shivers, letting his head fall between his shoulders. He lifts his knees when Peter tells him to and spreads his legs, moaning at the feel of the older man’s hands running along his thighs.

“You know,” Peter murmurs as he leans in to kiss the small of Stiles’ back, “I was going to tease you a little but I can’t wait any longer.”

The words make Stiles shiver and he nods his head, smiling. “Are you going to handcuff me to the bed again or do you trust me?”

Peter growls and shakes his head slowly as he moves off the mattress, grabbing the keys. He unlocks the cuff that’s still wrapped around the bedpost and pulls Stiles’ hands, securing his wrists behind the middle post. 

Once that’s done, Peter puts the keys down and hums. “Lube?”

“Nightstand,” Stiles answers, lacing his fingers together with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, the werewolf opens the drawer of the nightstand and grabs a bottle of lube that was lying on top of everything else. He’s not surprised to see that half of the lubricant is gone already and shudders, thinking about what Stiles does with it.

“How often do you…” Peter trails off, making a vague motion with his hand.

“You wanna know how often I fuck myself?” Stiles grins and shrugs his shoulders, swaying his hips a little. “Every night if I can,” he answers and gasps, hearing Peter growl beside him.

Without saying anything else, Peter pushes his boxers down and climbs onto the mattress behind Stiles, popping the top on the lube. He pours some onto his fingers and presses two against the teen’s entrance, pressing them in slowly. The boy gasps quietly but doesn’t show any signs of distress, so Peter slips the digits in all the way.

Stiles is tight and hot around his fingers, the feeling making Peter’s wolf howl underneath the surface. He stirs, wanting to be let out, and the older man manages to keep a hold on himself. The sound of Stiles’ moans and soft pleas for a third finger anchor Peter and he obliges, sliding another digit into the teen.

“Fuck,” the teen gasps, pushing his hips back against Peter’s. Stiles screws his eyes shut and moves his hands to the bed post, gripping it tightly. He never thought that having someone else finger him would feel so amazing and Stiles’ cock throbs at the thought of having Peter inside of him.

All three of Peter’s fingers sink into Stiles and he starts to separate them slowly, getting them as wide as they’ll go before pushing them together once more. He starts to thrust them in and out slowly, the pads of his fingers dragging across Stiles’ prostrate a few times, causing him to whimper loudly.

This goes on for another ten minutes and, okay, Peter is teasing Stiles a little bit because he can’t  _not_  do it. He enjoys the squirming and the noises he pulls from the teen’s throat, revels in each gasp and every thrust of Stiles’ hips back against his hand.

“Peter,” Stiles moans, breathing hard.

“Tell me what you want,” is Peter’s response as he pushes his fingers in a little harder, pulling them out halfway just to shove them back in.

Stiles gasps and tips his head back. “F — fuck me,” he manages.

“Say it again.

“Fuck —  _ah_  — fuck me…” Stiles begs.

With a wicked grin, Peter pulls his fingers out of Stiles and pours lube onto the palm of his hand. He strokes it over his cock before running the head along the teen’s rim, going clockwise and then counterclockwise, making Stiles beg a little more.

Just when the teen opens his mouth to ask for Peter’s cock, he pushes the head in and grips Stiles’ hip with his free hand. Bruises will be there tomorrow, he knows, but right now he doesn’t care; the only thing Peter cares about is fucking Stiles.

Stiles bites down on his lip and whimpers around it. He pushes back against the werewolf and gasps when Peter slides a couple more inches inside of him. The teen feels full and wonderful and amazing and he wants the older man to fuck him harder, wants to  _feel it_.

And he says just that.

“Shit,” Peter growls, slamming his cock in all the way. He groans the second his hips are pressed tightly against Stiles’ ass and gives him a moment to adjust. When the teen tells him to move, Peter just barely rocks his hips and lets out a quiet howl because,  _fuck_ , Stiles feels amazing around him.

It takes Peter a moment to pull out of Stiles and he leaves just the head of his cock inside of the teenager. He bites his lower lip and slides back into that tight heat, his fingers digging into Stiles’ hip tightly. 

Peter hasn’t done this in a  _long_  time and he wants to make it good for Stiles, wants to make his first time enjoyable, but his wolf is telling him to claim. To mark, to fuck, and to claim what’s  _his_. 

So, of course, Peter obeys his more primal instincts. He moves his hand up from Stiles’ hip and wraps it around his throat, feeling his Adam’s apple flutter against his palm. The werewolf doesn’t squeeze, just holds on gently as he thrusts in and out, Stiles’ moans vibrating against his hand. 

And Stiles is moaning like an amateur porn star. He’s got his eyes closed and moves his hips back against Peter, moaning and whimpering his name loudly, hoping and praying that his neighbors can’t hear them.

“You okay?” Peter asks and Stiles nods his head, barely managing to say that he’s fine, that he wants more. That spurs the werewolf on and he starts fucking him harder, bringing a pain that Stiles has felt before but it’s more intense. 

The pain fades into a burn that radiates through Stiles’ body and he’s shuddering, his cock throbbing. A bead of precome slides across the head and Stiles whimpers, slamming his hips back as much as he can.

God, he wants to come. He wants to feel Peter squeeze his throat and wants the werewolf to bite him, wants to have proof that all of this happened because Stiles is almost positive he’s going to wake up in the morning and think this was all a dream.

Stiles grits his teeth and swallows against Peter’s hand. “Choke me,” he says and the words sound strange coming from his mouth. “Fuck, Peter — choke me, bite me, do it.”

“ _Fuck_.” The werewolf closes his eyes and slams his hips against Stiles’, sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose and squeezes the teenager’s throat a little. Not enough to hurt him or completely cut off his breathing, just enough to sate him.

Peter keeps his hand wrapped around Stiles’ throat as he leans down, brushing his lips along the teen’s shoulder. He bites down a second later, tasting blood on his tongue, and he growls, sucking on the mark before moving onto another. As he bites and marks Stiles, Peter moves his hips, keeping his thrusts deep and slow.

After one more bite, Peter pulls away and drops his hand from around Stiles’ throat, wrapping it around his cock instead. He strokes him in time with his thrusts and stops suddenly, pulling his free hand away from the teen’s hip. Without warning, Peter brings his palm down on Stiles’ ass and rubs the cheek slowly before smacking him again.

“ _Peter_! Ohmygod, Peter, fuck…” Stiles gasps and hisses, flinching every time Peter’s hand comes down on his ass. His cock throbs and his body is trembling, the coil of heat in the pit of his stomach tightening. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna come,  _fuck_ , lemme come.”

When he hears that, Peter grips Stiles’ ass and digs his fingertips into his flesh, thrusting into him harder than before. He strokes his cock and twists his wrist, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Come for me, Stiles.”

It takes those four words, Peter’s hand working on his cock, and the hard thrusts to make Stiles come. His orgasm hits hard and he’s a shaking, moaning, writhing mess as he comes on the sheets underneath him. The hand on him doesn’t slow down and Stiles whimpers, twitching a little until Peter finally pulls away.

Peter growls, feeling Stiles’ muscles tighten around him, and he continues to fuck him slowly. He enjoys the sounds that come from the teen’s throat — the little broken whimpers, the breathy moans, and the shuddering gasps — and slams into Stiles harder.

“Shit,” the teen moans and laughs brokenly. “Come — come in me, Peter. Just —  _mmm_  — just like a bitch, huh?”

“ _Stiles_ …” Peter growls in warning, moving his hand back to the teen’s throat, wrapping his fingers around it. He squeezes, the cut-off gasp that escapes sending him over the edge. 

When he comes, Peter presses his hips tightly against Stiles’ and grabs his throat a little harder. He sees red for a moment and tips his head back on a howl, the sound echoing through the entire house. Sweat is pouring between his shoulders and he’s shaking, toeing the line between staying human and shifting.

The hand around Stiles’ throat falls away and the teenager coughs, gasping quietly in between hacks. He whimpers when Peter pulls out of him and looks over his shoulder at the werewolf, his lips swollen and red, eyes dark and pupils blown.

Peter swallows and curses under his breath as he grabs the keys. He unlocks the handcuffs and helps Stiles onto the bed, making sure to keep him away from the mess of come on the sheets.

“Jesus,” Stiles says and laughs, closing his eyes. “I’m glad I stayed.”

“Me too.” Grinning, Peter grabs his boxers, tugging them on before moving out of the room and into the hallway. He goes down to the bathroom and grabs a towel, turning the water on before running the fabric underneath the stream.

When he comes back, Stiles is half asleep and Peter shakes his head. He moves onto the mattress and cleans the teenager up, getting every last bit of come and blood off of his skin. Once that’s done, he picks Stiles up and moves him over to the chair, gingerly sitting him down, frowning when he protests.

Peter kisses his forehead and mumbles, “I have to change your sheet.”

“Mmm…” Stiles hums and nods, pointing to the dresser. “Last drawer.”

The werewolf moves over to the dresser and opens the bottom drawer, grabbing a fresh sheet. He throws it over his shoulder and moves over to strip the bed. 

Five minutes later, he’s shoving the dirty sheets into the hamper and moving to pick Stiles up again. The teenager doesn’t protest, just slumps against Peter, and clings to him until he’s laid back on the bed. He lays back on the mattress and yawns, watching the werewolf through his lashes, smiling lazily when Peter dresses him in a pair of pajama pants.

“You leavin’ me?” Stiles asks, pouting.

“No,” Peter answers and rolls his eyes, moving to lay next to Stiles. “I’m staying here until Derek and Scott come back. Then I’ll probably sit in the chair.”

Stiles nods his head and turns over, wincing. He curls up against Peter’s chest and puts a hand over his heart, sighing. After yawning loudly, the teenager nuzzles Peter and starts to doze off.

While Stiles sleeps, Peter listens out for his nephew and the pack, idly running his fingers through the teen’s hair. He dozes off here and there but stays awake, moving away from Stiles hours later when Derek and Isaac come to check on the two of them.

Neither say anything about the smell in the room or the already-forming bruises on Stiles’ body. They fill him on what happened and tell Peter to stay with Stiles until the morning, so he doesn’t wake up alone and afraid.

Once his nephew and his beta are gone, Peter climbs back into bed with Stiles and holds him close, nuzzling his cheek gently. He falls asleep with the boy’s scent in his nostrils and sleeps peacefully for once.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The he Alpha pack is defeated and the wolves are healing. As per Derek’s request, Peter keeps Stiles occupied for a little while longer because some things went wrong and Scott is at Deaton’s, dealing with some major wounds.
> 
> (I apologize for any mistakes you find.)

The morning comes with the sound of birds chirping and warm sunlight pouring through the window. Stiles is laying on his stomach on the middle of his bed with his arms shoved underneath the pillow and his cheek pressed against it. He stays asleep until he feels the mattress dip beside him and feels someone moving around, frowning deeply as he awakes.

“Stop movin’, Scott,” he mumbles and swats his hand toward the body moving around, his fingers inches away from touching anything but air.

Peter stills and looks at the teen, chewing on his lip. “It’s not Scott,” he says and moves off the bed quickly, moving to grab his phone, which has stopped vibrating by the time he gets there.

“Who s’it, then?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” is Peter’s answer and Stiles murmurs an agreement before taking a deep breath. He pushes his face against the pillow, yawning loudly against it, and turns his head the other way, facing the wall.

Once the teenager is looking away, Peter checks his phone and chews on his lower lip as he scrolls through the messages. Most of them are from his nephew, saying that the Alpha pack was taken out and they’re fine, but the last one says that Peter needs to keep Stiles occupied for a little longer. 

The only explanation Derek offers in his text is that Scott is hurt.

Peter sighs and runs a hand through his hair, tossing his phone onto the ground before moving back onto the bed. He looks at the bite mark on his shoulder and lifts a hand to trace the teeth prints with his fingertip.

“Stiles,” he whispers, running his hand down the middle of the boy’s back, rubbing his muscles slowly. “Wake up. I have to tell you something.”

A grumble escapes Stiles’ lips and he rolls over toward Peter, moving onto his back with a loud yawn. He blinks his eyes open and settles his gaze on the werewolf, screaming in surprise. “Whoa, what are you doing in  _my bed_?!”

“I slept here last night.”

“You —  _what_?” Stiles blinks rapidly and sits up, wincing a little as he settles back against the headboard. He’s about to open his mouth and ask what Peter means by he  _slept there_  but then he remembers the night before. The way Peter fucked him, how he had a throat around Stiles’ throat, and he blushes harder, chewing his lip. “Um,” he says and laughs, lifting a hand to run through his hair, “what’s up?”

Peter purses his lips and sighs. “The pack took out the Alphas but something happened. I don’t know much, so don’t ask about it, but Scott is apparently hurt,” he whispers, his eyes soft as he looks at the teen.

And Stiles’ face goes from being full of embarrassment to concerned in just a few seconds. His eyes go misty and his bottom lip is trembling only slightly and Peter can feel the atmosphere in the room change.

“Is he — do you know if he’s okay?” Peter shakes his head and swallows thickly, watching as Stiles moves to grab his phone off his nightstand. He unlocks it and brings his messages up, immediately sending one to Derek, asking if Scott is okay.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” the werewolf murmurs as he takes Stiles’ phone away, despite the protests, and tucks it underneath his thigh. “But I have to keep you occupied here for a while. Probably because Derek knew you’d want to run to Scott’s side the moment you found out and he’s trying to spare your feelings.”

Stiles’ eyes are rimmed in tears as he looks at Peter, gulping. “Of course I want to be by his side — he’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake!”

The phone vibrates under Peter’s leg and he grabs it, reading the text from his nephew aloud. “Scott is healing but it’s going to take a while. We’re at Deaton’s, I’ll let you know when you can come visit.”

“Fuck  _that_ ,” Stiles murmurs and pushes the blankets away before standing up, sniffling hard. He moves to grab his clothes from the floor and Peter watches him for a moment before grabbing him, settling the teenager on his lap. “What the fuck are you  _doing_? I want to see Scott, I have to make sure he’s okay!”

“He’s with Deaton and Derek, he’s going to be fine.” As he speaks, Peter kisses the nape of Stiles’ neck and nuzzles his nose against the bottom of it, breathing gently. “Just calm down and stay here with me,” he whispers, running his hands along the teen’s thighs slowly.

The lips and nose and hands on his skin are enough to distract Stiles for a moment and he leans back against Peter slightly, sighing. He closes his eyes and thinks about Scott —  his best friend in the whole world — and how he could have  _died_  the night before.

Peter, sensing Stiles’ mood, kisses the back of his head and says, “I don’t feel you calming down.”

“It’s kind of hard when my best friend is possibly  _dying_.”

“Scott isn’t going to die. If anything, he’ll have scars for the rest of his life and that’s better than not having a life at all, isn’t it?”

No answer comes from Stiles, at least not a verbal one, and he just slumps against Peter for a while, nuzzling him. It’s surprisingly sweet and the werewolf is being weirdly gentle, which is something Stiles would never think of when someone said “Peter Hale”.

Everyone changes, he guesses, and turns around so he’s straddling the wolf’s lap, arms curled on his chest between them. Stiles leans his head down onto Peter’s shoulder and focuses on the way he’s touching his back. 

Peter’s fingers move along Stiles’ spine slowly and the touches aren’t anything like the teenager has experienced with anyone else but Scott and his father. They’re comforting, full of worry and concern, and maybe if Stiles were in a better mental state, he’d question what the wolf wanted from him.

But, Stiles thinks, Peter already got what he wanted.

“So we had sex last night?” Stiles asks quietly, closing his eyes.

“Before you say anything —  _you_  seduced  _me,_ ” Peter murmurs in response before nodding his head and laying it against the boy’s. “We slept together and I’m sorry about the bites on your shoulder… and everything else.” _  
_

A laugh bubbles up from Stiles’ throat, surprising them both, and he shakes his head, curling up against Peter more. “It’s fine. I knew things would hurt the morning after I lost my virginity but I didn’t expect it to be this…”

“Bad?” The wolf suggests, quirking a brow.

“No, it’s not bad. Just — awesome, you know? My hips hurt, my ass is sore, and I’m half convinced that the saliva in the bite marks in my shoulder will turn me into a wolf one day but…” Stiles trails off with a quiet chuckle, moving his hands down Peter’s chest. “I’m fine with it.”

Peter shakes his head again and laughs, kissing Stiles’ temple. “You aren’t going to be turned into a wolf just because I bit you last night,” he mumbles, brushing his nose along the teen’s hairline.

“Hey! You never know.”

“I do know,” the wolf argues and snaps his teeth at Stiles. “Derek is the Alpha now, not me.”

“You could still have  _some_  Alpha juice in you…” Stiles sits up on Peter’s lap and moves his hands to either side of his neck. “And it could be just enough to turn someone like me into a furry monster.”

The wolf rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Or a scaly monster like Jackson,” he says, grinning when Stiles smacks his shoulder. “You aren’t going to become a furry monster — or a scaly one, for that matter.”

Stiles opens his mouth to say something but then Peter is kissing him, slow and gentle, a hand cupping the back of his head. All of Stiles’ thoughts seem to bleed away and he closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as he presses against the wolf a little.

The kiss is sweet and slow and everything that Peter  _isn’t_  or, well, shouldn’t be but Stiles isn’t complaining. He’d rather have sweet Peter than have the murder-crazed, blood lust-driven psychopath version of the wolf any day of the week.

When Peter’s tongue moves along his lips and he starts to pry them open gently, Stiles opens his mouth and lets the wolf’s tongue inside. He shivers, pressing his against Peter’s once it’s in his mouth, and moves a hand to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

A gasp falls against the older man’s lips and Stiles moves his hand down the length of Peter’s stomach, fingers skimming across his skin. Which is a lot softer than it should be and Stiles is still trying to figure out how in the world Peter Hale became so hot.

There’s a thin trail of hair leading down from Peter’s navel to the top of his boxers and Stiles follows it with his fingertips, shuddering. He hooks two fingers underneath the elastic of his underwear and kisses Peter harder, moaning against his mouth.

Peter eventually pulls back to breathe and laughs quietly, the noise settling deep in his chest as he looks at Stiles. The teen’s cheeks are tinged pink and he’s licking his red, swollen lips, biting at the skin gently.

“Do you want to go for round two?” Stiles asks, almost innocently, as he bats his lashes at the wolf and grins. His fingers are toying with the waistband of Peter’s boxers and he closes his eyes, nodding his head, finding it difficult to speak at the moment.

Before he knows it, Peter is pushed down onto the mattress and Stiles is pulling his boxers down his legs. The fabric is pulled away a moment later and Peter instinctively spreads his legs, pushing himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at Stiles, biting his lip.

And Stiles looks back up at him, blushing harder than before. It’s kind of adorable in a sexy way and Peter smiles, moving one hand to touch the side of the teenager’s face.

“I’ve — uh — never done this before,” he says and chuckles, wrapping his hand around the base of Peter’s cock, stroking him slowly, feeling him harden against his fingers. 

“That’s alright,” Peter whispers, licking his lips as he watches with hooded eyes, his hand moving to the nape of Stiles’ neck. “Just take your time.”

Stiles nods his head and continues moving his hand up and down slowly, biting the middle of his lip. Once Peter is fully hard, he leans in to press the flat of his tongue against the head, closing his eyes for a second. He looks back up at the wolf, smiles, and seals his lips around the head before sucking slowly, sinking down a couple of inches.

The sight of Stiles taking his cock makes Peter growl and his hips twitch forward, just barely, before settling back down. He brushes his thumb along the teen’s scalp encouragingly and bites back a moan, feeling more of his cock slide between those perfect lips.

“Shit,” he moans, tipping his head back as Stiles starts to suck quickly, working his tongue around his cock. If the boy had waited until  _after_  to say he’d never given head before, Peter might not have believed him; he just guesses Stiles has watched a lot of porn.

Stiles blushes hard and continues to take Peter’s cock. He takes a couple more inches and attempts to deep throat but he gags. When he does that, Stiles pulls off and mutters an apology in between coughs, his hand still working Peter’s cock.

Once he’s able to go again, Stiles takes half of Peter into his mouth and suck slowly, stroking what he can’t take. He moves his free hand between the wolf’s legs and plays with his balls, rubbing the pads of his fingers against them, his heart beating hard when he hears Peter moan his name.

And it shouldn’t be this good, Peter thinks. He shouldn’t be feeling like a teenager about to blow his load while having his first blowjob — but that’s exactly what’s going to happen. It’s not his fault, not really, because Stiles’ mouth is perfect and he may be inexperienced but he’s a fast learner.

“Stiles, stop.” The words rush out of Peter’s mouth and he pulls the teenager away, his cock throbbing and his wolf whining inside. “I’m going to come  _way too_  fast if you keep doing that,” he explains and chuckles quietly.

The teen licks his lips and crawls onto Peter’s lap again. “I’m sorry,” he says but he’s grinning, the flush on his face starting to go away.

“Sorry my ass,” Peter mumbles, moving his hands to Stiles’ ass, gripping it tightly through the thin fabric covering him. “Do you think you’re okay to be fucked again or do you want me to do something else?”

“Some — something else?”

Peter grins and nods, moving a hand underneath the waistband of the teenager’s pants, slipping it over his ass. “There are _plenty_  of things I could do to you,” he whispers, moving a fingertip between Stiles’ cheeks and back up.

“Well, no, I  _know that_  — but what did you have in mind?” Stiles asks in a breathless voice and he bites his lip, pushing back against Peter’s hands.

The wolf thinks for a moment and flips Stiles over onto the mattress, shoving him down on it. His eyes burn a brighter blue and his fangs extend just before he leans down to take the waistband of Stiles’ pajama bottoms between his teeth.

Peter tugs the fabric down with his mouth and his hands, working it off before throwing the pajamas somewhere on the floor. “Flip over onto your stomach,” he says, looking up at Stiles with a smirk.

A shudder passes through Stiles and he watches Peter move away before obeying his order. He rolls over onto his stomach and lays on the bed with his arms folded, his chin resting on his elbow.

Without saying a word, Peter spreads Stiles’ legs and then moves his hands up to spread his cheeks. He licks his lips and leans in to press the flat of his tongue against Stiles’ entrance, licking a broad stripe up.

“Holy — ” Stiles gasps, his eyes screwed shut. He squirms a little and whimpers, feeling Peter’s teeth on his ass cheek. The wolf bites down just a little, fangs barely breaking the skin, before going back to licking Stiles. 

Peter’s tongue works slowly and he licks from Stiles’ perineum to the cleft of his ass, then back down again. Occasionally he stops to suck the teen’s balls, smirking when Stiles moans and gasps loudly above him.

The whole time, Peter can’t stop thinking about how Stiles still tastes like his come from the night before. He growls when he keeps tasting himself on the teen’s skin and it only makes him want to get more, though he knows his come is long dried up by now.

When he wiggles his tongue inside of Stiles, the teenager moans loudly and moves his hips backwards, then forwards, against the bed. He rocks himself slowly, fucking back against Peter’s tongue and then thrusting against the mattress, his cock sliding across the sheets. Precome smears along the fabric but Stiles is too far gone to care about that.

A smirk appears on Peter’s face and he holds onto the teen’s ass before pushing his tongue into him. He pushes it in as far as he can before pulling out, running the tip along Stiles’ rim for a moment. Then he wiggles his tongue back inside and shakes his head a little before moving down, licking across Stiles’ balls.

“Fuck! I’m — oh, god, Peter — I’m gonna… I’m gonna come, fuck, keep… keep doing that, please.” Stiles rambles, his words blurring together as he speaks, and Peter growls in response.

Obeying the teen, he continues to lick him. Making broader stripes along his entrance, along his crease, and back down. He even manages to get a finger inside of Stiles as he drops down to suck his balls once more.

Stiles continues to move his hips against the mattress, the fabric rubbing against his cock and making it burn a little but he’s in heaven with Peter’s mouth on him. He grips the pillow and drops his face onto the bed between his arms, his moans muffling against the mattress.

It takes a few more thrusts against the bed and Peter moving his finger in and out while sucking on his balls to make Stiles come. He writhes and trembles, his hips slowing down as he comes underneath him. The wolf’s name slips from his lips in a loud moan but it muffles against the mattress, though Stiles is sure Peter heard it.

When he comes down, Stiles lifts his head and looks over his shoulder at Peter, biting his lip. “Holy shit,” he breathes and laughs, the noise tapering off into a whimper when Peter smacks his ass.

“I’m glad you liked that,” the wolf murmurs as he kisses his way up Stiles’ spine, kissing between his shoulders. “We’ll have to do that again one day.”

“Wait — this is going to happen again?” Stiles sounds surprised and Peter quirks a brow, nodding in response. “Holy… shit.”

Frowning, Peter kisses Stiles’ shoulder and nudges his nose along the mark he left there last night. “Why, don’t you want it to happen again?”

“No, oh my god, of course I want that. I just — I wasn’t sure if  _you_  did, you know? I mean, Derek told you to babysit me so you did and you fucked me to keep my mind off of things,” the teen answers, the words coming out in one rush of breath. “But it’s nice to know that you want it, too.”

“Of course I do.” A smile forms on Peter’s lips and he kisses the back of the teenager’s head before running the head of his cock between his cheeks. “Now I’m going to come, if you don’t mind,” he whispers and something warm spreads through his chest when Stiles laughs and tells him to go ahead.

Peter knows that it’s not going to take long for him to come, not with the taste of Stiles on his tongue and the smell in the air. Still, he wants to drag it out as long as he can so he can actually  _enjoy_  what he’s doing instead of letting it go to waste. 

So he leans over Stiles’ body and starts thrusting his cock against the teenager’s ass, the head of his cock brushing against Stiles’ entrance more than a few times. Peter moans and drops his head down, resting it against the boy’s, his breath coming in harsh pants.

Apparently he can’t “drag it out” because it takes a few more thrusts and Stiles’ hand around his cock, stroking him awkwardly to make Peter come. His hips stutter forward and his orgasm hits him hard, causing him to grip the sheets underneath them as he comes all over Stiles’ ass, lower back, and hand.

Peter falls on the bed with a huff and closes his eyes tightly, breathing in slow through his nose. Once he’s calm, he blinks to look at Stiles, then down at the mess on his back, grinning. He moves a hand down and spreads his come along the teen’s skin, moving it all along his ass.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asks, groaning quietly.

“It’s like scent-marking,” Peter answers and shrugs, continuing to rub his come against Stiles until he’s satisfied. He pulls his hand away when he is and grins at the teenager, licking his lips quickly.

Stiles snorts out a laugh and rolls toward Peter, pressing his back against he wolf’s chest. “You’re so weird,” he murmurs and yawns, snuggling against the older man.

No response comes from Peter, though he does scoff like he’s truly offended by those words, and he wraps his arms around Stiles protectively. He listens to the teen’s breathing, his heartbeat, and lets it lull him back to sleep. 

For once since the fire, Peter is happy. He’s changing his ways, becoming a better person, and he thinks maybe he owes all of that to Stiles for helping him. 


End file.
